


A Circle, Closed

by edibleflowers



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, M/M, Public Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem was that they were all action junkies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Circle, Closed

**Author's Note:**

> This was titled 'wtfavengersfic.txt' in my hard drive for a long time. I think that says it all. Set after the movie with the Avengers Mansion as living space; also doesn't fit canonically with Iron Man 3. Sort of a GSF, more of a group relationship thing.

Later, Tony Stark thought that he should have seen the whole situation well in advance. In his own defense, though, he'd never worked as part of a team prior to the Avengers -- either in his personal work or as Iron Man -- so he figured he deserved a little slack.

The problem was that they were all action junkies. Well, except for Bruce Banner; but once the big guy took over, he was just as adrenaline-fueled as the rest of them. More, maybe, considering it took a lot more of everything to power that gigantic frame. Tony knew that Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff had pasts, both separate and together, that involved a lot of action and spying and generally thrilling behavior. Steve Rogers, of course, had joined the Army out of a desperate desire to serve his country -- and getting the super-soldier serum was a bonus that only added to his need to fight. And Thor, the freaking God of Thunder according to Norse myth: the guy lived in a culture obsessed with war. (Personally, Tony was curious as hell about whether the legends about Valhalla were true.)

So really, Tony shouldn't have been surprised when he walked into the media room after a mission and discovered Clint and Natasha sprawled over one of the big leather couches in front of the TV. They'd barely gotten back from fighting some sea-monster thing that had tried to destroy Battery Park, but despite his exhaustion Tony couldn't get himself to cool down. Showering and changing hadn't helped, so he'd thought maybe some mindless TV, but obviously not, because--

"Sorry," Natasha gasped, dragging her zipper up, while Clint did his best to shield her from Tony's view. It wasn't really necessary, since Tony'd immediately covered his eyes with his hand out of respect, but he could respect the thought.

"No, no, you kids carry on," Tony said, and backed out of the room hastily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to worry about walking in on anyone. MIT, maybe, but his roommate had been way too focused on his schoolwork to even think about girls. Or guys, for that matter. As he left, he heard Natasha laugh.

He allowed himself precisely five minutes of being indignant, then reminded himself that, while he did technically own the mansion, he had invited all of them to live there, had specifically refitted it to be the kind of living quarters superheroes might need. While Stark Tower was still where Tony was doing a lot of his work, it was a bit cold in terms of living space. And he sort of liked the idea of all six of them in one place, even if they all had their separate stuff to do as well. That didn't mean it wasn't still weird to walk in on two of his teammates halfway to naked time on the media room sofa, though.

He was mildly tempted to go back and tell them to be careful, that was real leather, but decided it would be too much of a dick move. It wasn't like he couldn't afford the cleaning bill.

He thought about going up to the roof, but Thor had beaten him to it. At least he and Jane still had all their clothes on; judging the emptiness of the wine bottle by her lounge chair, though, that probably wouldn't last long. Jane gave Thor the slightest glance before inviting Tony to join them, but he shook his head and retreated. No sense ruining other couples' nights any more than he already had.

The natatorium, maybe. A few laps in the Olympic-sized swimming pool might get his racing nerves back to some semblance of normality. But as soon as he pushed open the door, he saw that was a hopeless cause; Steve was already there, obviously having had the same idea. A few fading bruises could still be seen on his upper arms and back as he knifed through the water; they certainly didn't seem to be bothering him or slowing him down, because he made every stroke look so natural that Michael Phelps would have been spluttering in his wake.

Tony felt his mouth go dry. Steve Rogers, the idol of his childhood, _Captain America_ was swimming in his pool, and all he could think about was how goddamn cut the man's arms were. A sheen of moisture glistened on his skin wherever it emerged from the water; his hair was plastered back, dark and wet, showing the beautiful curve of his skull. Tony had the momentary urge to find a way of resurrecting Michelangelo just to paint the guy.

Steve finally came up for air, clinging to one edge of the pool; he pushed water out of his eyes and blinked up at Tony. "Hey, I'm not in your way, am I?"

"N-no," Tony said. "Course not, I said make yourself at home, right?"

"Couldn't rest?" Steve flipped over to his back and lazily paddled backwards through the water. Tony found himself averting his gaze for the second time that night, but not before he'd seen broad pectorals slick with water in the light. He inhaled hard and went to sit down on one of the lounge chairs.

"Yeah, doesn't look like anyone can," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, this is the first time in ages I can remember this place being this full. Even when we lived here when I was a kid, it was just me and my parents. And the staff. More of them than us, actually, now that I think about it."

"Is it weird?" Steve asked. "I mean, if it is--"

"No," Tony said, surprising himself again. "I like it." He did, actually, even given the initial adversarial reaction he'd had to Steve and pretty much most of the others. For the first time in ages, Tony had people around him who actually gave a fuck about his existence -- beyond those who were paid to and the few who had hung on, like Pepper and Rhodey, out of sheer perverse stubbornness.

Still, he carefully brought a leg up, bending his knee so that the fabric of his trousers hid his erection, when Steve climbed out of the water. No need to shock his new teammate _that_ much.

* * *

Clint and Natasha made a sort of sense. They had a past, a shared history far beyond any of the rest of them. Jane and Thor -- well, he'd met her during his previous time on Earth, and it was clear that he was now making up for lost time courting her.

What really threw Tony off-balance was walking in on Clint and Bruce. Not that he fucking cared who was screwing each other, but in the lab in the middle of the day? OK, middle of the day, nine at night, whatever, that didn't change the fact that it was basically a public space and Tony went in there all the time and the last thing he expected to see was Bruce's back, his shirt half-off to bare his narrow shoulders, and through the clear surface of the workbench he saw Clint's short-cropped hair, right at belly level, and--

"Oh dear God, is there no place sacred in this house?" he said, nearly dropping the coffee mugs. There was a slick wet sound and Bruce jumped and twisted to see him. Behind him, Clint rose hastily to his feet.

"Sorry, man, didn't know you were coming in here," Clint offered casually. His mouth was red, and he was naked from the waist up -- actually, from the waist down, too, from what Tony could see through the workbench. Bruce's pants were open, though he'd hastily grabbed at the flies to keep himself decent; Tony could still see a blush spreading over his revealed skin.

Tony quietly put the mugs down on the closest surface. "Don't let me interrupt," he said, gave them both his sauciest grin, and turned to leave. Outside, he calmly informed Jarvis to lock the doors from inside, to ensure Bruce and Clint's privacy, then made for his own quarters to jerk off.

There was no denying the hotness there, after all.

* * *

It was finding out about Natasha and Thor making out in the hot tub that finally did Tony in.

"Goddammit, is everyone getting laid in this fucking house but me," he swore as he stalked down to his lab -- his own, which he'd carefully set with a password that would admit no one but him. The last thing he needed was to walk in on, who knew what, Clint and Steve or something.

To be fair, it wasn't as if he'd been putting himself out there. Most of the time after missions, he ended up down here, working off the excess energy and not thinking about how close he'd come to dying. It was his routine when he'd been on his own, and it had served him fine then, but he wasn't alone anymore. And he couldn't be angry at Pepper for deciding she'd had enough of his crap and dating Happy instead. They made a much more logical couple.

He toyed with the thought of simply making his intentions clear. A nice twelve-person bed in one of the unused sub-basement rooms, the whole place redecorated with soft carpeting and subtle lighting and all the supplies the six of them would need. He was halfway to calling the contractor and getting started when he paused, then cut off the phone.

For once in his life, he was going to ask first.

* * *

His chance came two days later. He would have said something earlier, but naturally they'd been called out on a mission the moment he'd gone upstairs to approach Thor, and it took a good twenty-four hours to subdue the robots that were trying to eat the Staten Island ferries and another thirteen to track down and subdue the idiot inventor behind them, who'd clearly thought it the best way to express his rage over never getting to work on time. Tony would have applauded his brilliance if he wasn't busy growling at the couple of unfinished robots trying desperately to attack him in spite of their lack of limbs.

After that was the debriefing, of course, and then Fury had to hold Tony back and make him swear up one side and down the other that he hadn't kept any of the inventor's technology. Tony promised and avowed and didn't mention the plans he'd had Jarvis scan. Plans weren't technology, after all. 

They were all dragging by that point, piled together in a SHIELD transport van to take them back to the mansion, but Tony managed to get himself seated next to Thor, who, despite having been awake for the last seventeen thousand hours, seemed as fresh as ever. "Hey, big guy, when you have a chance, I need to talk to you," he said.

Thor gave him a bemused look, but nodded. "Of course, my friend. Might it wait until we have suitably refreshed ourselves?"

Tony nodded and sat back; he'd removed the helmet, feeling drenched in sweat and, now that he had the time to think about it, bruised all over as well. Not for the first time, he thought about adding a layer of padding under the innermost plates of the armor, wondered whether it'd do any good.

He hadn't meant the request as an invitation, but when his shower door opened and Thor stepped in behind him, naked and grinning, Tony found it impossible to say anything but yes.

* * *

"So, not to kill the mood or anything," he said as they dried off afterward, "but what the hell, man?"

Thor's eyebrows went up; he grinned, utterly at ease, rubbing his towel over his hair and then down each arm. "How do you mean?" he asked. "You wanted to speak; this seemed the most expedient way."

"Granted," Tony muttered, and wrapped his towel around his hips to head back into the bedroom. Thor followed, leaving his own towel on the floor of the bathroom (nice to be around people as sloppy as he himself was, Tony thought absently). With a chuckle, the demigod grabbed Tony around the waist and tackled him to the bed.

"Please," Thor said, "tell me your concerns." His eyes glittered, good-humored, but serious enough that Tony sighed and dropped his shoulders.

"Well, mostly I was trying to figure out what the fuck's been going on," Tony said. "I mean, I got that you and Jane were together, and Clint and Natasha had some kind of thing going on, but then I saw Clint and Bruce fooling around, and then you and Natasha--"

Thor nodded, then, his smile soft. "I see."

"No, no, you don't," and Tony pushed back from Thor a little, needing to be away, wanting to escape now. "Why, I don't get it, why everyone's fucking--"

"You disapprove of such things?" Thor's head tilted. "You didn't seem to be bothered by it just now. Or is it that you abide by the custom of Midgardians requiring a marriage bond first?"

Tony couldn't help but bark a laugh at that. "No, hell, fuck no, the sheer amount of premarital sex I've had is pretty much a living testament to the fact that I don't disapprove." He sucked in a breath, raked a hand through his hair, and looked at Thor. The god looked confused, true, but he smiled gamely; this was a puzzle for him to solve, nothing more. Tony sighed. "Let's look at it this way," he said. "I've lived alone for the past twenty years or so. I'm not good at relationships, but I figure when two people are in one, they -- it's just them. Monogamy, you know what I'm talking about?"

Thor nodded slowly. "Of course. We have this in Asgard as well. But why do you assume we are all monogamous?"

Tony's mouth opened. Then it closed again. Speech rarely abandoned him, but this appeared to be one of those times.

With a chuckle, Thor reached for him and tugged him closer again. "I can think of better things for you to do with that mouth than gape like a fish," he said, and Tony stopped blinking stupidly and grinned. Then he applied himself to said activity. Never would he let it be said Tony Stark was slow to catch on, after all.

* * *

After that, it was like he had the secret handshake now, or the password, or whatever it was that let him into the club. He caught Natasha eyeing him in the kitchen two days later, and before he even knew what happened she'd pinned him to the wall, her smile dangerous and her hand in his pants. When he heard footsteps behind him, he twisted his head in fear that Clint was about to decapitate him, but instead Barton just grinned and asked when he could get some of that action. Bruce didn't come out of his lab that much, except to eat and sleep and Hulk out on missions, but Tony lured him to his own workspace on the semi-pretense of assessing some new unstable molecules that might work for a suit for him (stretching when he got big and green and reducing in size when he went human again), and somewhere in the middle of the discussion they wound up on the floor panting and making out. It was as if they were all just waiting for him to clue in, and frankly it pissed him off that it took him so long.

The only one who didn't seem to be involved in the whole group sex thing was Steve. That pained Tony more than he could say, because hello, hot supersoldier (Tony's memories of that perfect body slicing through the water in the pool had kept him up many a night).

He asked Clint about it one afternoon. They'd spent the morning dealing with, unbelievably, mutant alligators climbing out of the sewers (Tony swearing about how evil geniuses shouldn't be allowed, only the good ones like him, which had made Steve look at him like he was insane), and after the seemingly-endless briefing, Clint followed him into his room and the shower, an action of which Tony wholeheartedly approved.

"So does Steve join in on this stuff?" he asked, after.

Clint shrugged. "Not with me, I don't know about the others."

Which probably meant no. Tony wondered if Steve was asexual. No, there was Peggy; the way Steve talked about her made it clear he would have pursued her if not for the plane crash. Steve could just be reticent, still bound to the sexual mores of the 1940s, but that didn't strike Tony as right either. While he pondered it, Clint laughed and patted Tony's back. "Stop thinking so hard," he advised.

Tony grinned at him. "Make me," he suggested. It was just the sort of challenge he knew Clint liked.

* * *

He didn't want to make his interest too obvious, but casual inquiries proved his initial theory correct: Steve hadn't slept with any of the others. Thor was the most forthcoming, describing how he and Steve had sat up one evening, nearly until morning, drinking (Thor's distaste toward most Earth-based alcohol very nearly turned into a rant of its own) and talking; but when Thor had leaned in to kiss Steve, Steve had gently pushed him back, gently avoiding him. "I assumed he was not interested in men," Thor finished, with a shrug. "It is not shameful in Asgard to enjoy the company of any, regardless of gender, but I understand that such attitudes are not the norm here on Midgard."

Tony felt his hopes shatter at that, but he only nodded and let himself relax against Thor. So he wanted the one guy he couldn't have. Wasn't that really just typical, though?

For the most part, things went on in the pattern of normality that had begun to form his life. The Avengers came together to battle monsters and aliens and bizarre creations, occasionally joining up with other superhero groups if the menace couldn't be contained by one of them (Tony didn't care for the Fantastic Four, Reed Richards was a smug bastard, but he did enjoy watching Johnny Storm streak around the sky). In between, there was work on new projects, the occasional Stark Industries meeting when Pepper managed to bully him into attending, charity events and $20,000-a-plate dinners. And sex with most of the rest of his team. Tony Stark's life was fuller than he'd ever envisioned it before.

Except for the one thing it was lacking.

* * *

The way Tony saw it, he hadn't known what was going on until he was in the middle of it. Maybe Steve was the same. Admittedly, Thor's approach had probably been clear enough to spell everything out for Steve -- but maybe not. For all that Steve had adapted marvelously to the modern world, taking to smartphones and computers as if they'd been part of his life before the crash, there were still social cues that could trip up even the wariest modern human.

Alternately, though it seemed hard to believe, Steve might just not be into Thor. Doubtful but not impossible, Tony thought with a private chuckle.

After the next briefing, then, he lingered outside the conference room. Habitually the first out as soon as they were dismissed, Tony hoped this time to ambush Steve, who always hung back to discuss something with Fury or Coulson. Today was no exception; Steve was the last of the team to emerge, and he raised an eyebrow at Tony when he saw him. 

"Something I can help you with?" he asked, his expression neutral. Tony fell into step with him, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Sort of," he said. "I was wondering if you knew about how everyone's sleeping with everyone else."

Steve stopped so hard Tony thought he heard a rubber sole squeak, staring up at a ceiling-mounted camera pointedly. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Hacked 'em," he said. "They can't hear or see us. What happens in Avengers Mansion stays in Avengers Mansion. Anyway, you knew, right?"

"I knew... some of it," Steve replied, guarded. Glancing around, Tony saw suited agents passing through a cross-corridor, and nudged Steve back into one of the alcove-like corners of the hall. They were less likely to be seen and yelled at this way, he hoped.

"OK, well, good." Tony nodded in approval. "Here's the thing. I asked around, and apparently you're not in on it, and I think you should be. It's only fair, and I wanted to offer you the opportunity."

Steve's head tilted, a quizzical expression drawing his eyebrows together. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally spoke. "You make it sound like a business arrangement," he said at last.

Tony barked brief, helpless laughter. "Yeah, fine, sorry about that. I'm kinda wired that way sometimes. But I, I still, I want--"

Steve began to shake his head. Tony felt despair hit him in a wave. "I," Steve began. "The thing is. I want to."

Tony blinked. It was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "You want to," he repeated. "OK, good, great, that's a start, we can work from--"

"But I don't want everyone," Steve continued, and Tony thought he could _hear_ his own chest collapsing as his heart fell in. Deaf to it, Steve went on. "I know that's how the rest of -- everyone -- is doing things, I mean, right? And that's, that's fine. But I'm not. What you said. Wired that way."

"You like monogamy," Tony said.

Steve inhaled; his fists flexed. Odd, Tony thought: Steve wasn't meeting his eyes. He dared a step closer. The hardest thing in the world was to keep his mouth shut, but somehow he managed it, waiting as patiently as he could -- which, for Tony, was not very much at all -- for Steve to finish.

"It's not about monogamy. It's just that the only person I'm interested in is you," Steve said. His cheeks flushed, he raised his eyes to Tony's. They were darker than Tony had ever seen them, a midnight shade of blue. Tony's mouth went utterly dry.

"I think we can arrange things," Tony said, managing to not sound totally strangled. He couldn't stand it anymore, he just pushed up -- on his fucking toes, because that was how much taller Steve was -- and kissed him.

Steve made a startled sound, but he didn't do anything else for a long moment, and Tony started to fear that Steve was going to shove him away and scold him for kissing him in a corridor of SHIELD's headquarters. Instead, Steve's hands closed on Tony's shoulders and pulled him closer, and then Steve was kissing him back and it was the best thing ever.

When Steve let go, Tony rocked back on his heels, blinking.

"Let's get out of here," Steve said, and Tony laughed and nodded.

* * *

They flew back rather than taking a car, a little because Tony didn't want to leave the armor at SHIELD but mostly because Tony had a feeling it'd get Steve going. He was right, too: as soon as they landed in the workshop and the 'bots started stripping him of the suit, Steve was pulling him in for a kiss. 

"Watch it, watch it, ow," Tony commented, tugging free with a laugh, hands up to let the gauntlets come off. 

"You have _got_ to find a quicker way to get the armor off," Steve said, his grin unrepentant. Tony wanted to strip him right there, remembering water glinting off those clean shoulderblades.

"I've got all kinds of incentive now," he murmured, stepping out of a boot and into Steve's arms.

* * *

Fortunately, there were no interruptions on the way upstairs. He'd waited so long for this, Tony was sure someone would appear and drag Steve off for something, or there'd be some crisis, or Loki would show up and blow up the Statue of Liberty to make a point. But his paranoia proved unfounded, for once, and they got into his room with the door shut and locked behind them without incident.

"You done this before?" Tony asked, unbuttoning Steve's shirt with fumbling fingers and licking a stripe up his neck.

"Couple times." Panting, Steve kicked off his shoes, dragged Tony's vintage tee up over his head. Tony went still; his undershirt was one of his special designs, cut with a centered circle to show off the arc reactor. This could be a bad moment. But Steve's fingers only touched it, traced the edges of it, and then drew a circle on his skin around it. Tony's erection went from hard to stone.

"Ever been fucked?" Tony said, voice ragged now, and Steve laughed.

"Wanna be my first?"

Tony had to bite hard on his lip to keep from coming in his pants.

Why he'd thought Steve might be old-fashioned and shy, he didn't know now. Steve was as take-charge in the bedroom as on the battlefield; he finished stripping Tony and gave him a push so that he fell back on the bed, then, while Tony struggled to his elbows to watch, pulled off his own clothes. In a few hasty movements, a crumpled heap of clothing had gathered on the floor: Tony's and Steve's piled any old way. Tony sort of admired the metaphor of it, or at least he did until Steve knelt over him, sitting back on Tony's thighs. To Tony's great surprise and pleasure, Steve's cheeks had gone red.

"Curse of fair skin," Steve said when he noticed Tony looking. "I, I'm gonna need a little help here."

"I was kinda hoping you weren't planning on doing this alone," Tony said, mostly to make Steve laugh. It was important to him that Steve enjoy himself mentally as well as physically, and he was pleased to get at least a wry smile out of it. "Here, let me up, I'll get the stuff and we can, you know, take our time and have fun."

Steve's eyebrow went up, but he moved back obligingly. While he moved up to the head of the bed, tugging down the covers to get them out of the way, Tony elbowed over to a nightstand and opened the drawer, fingers deftly sorting through until he found supplies. "Don't give me that look," he commented, glancing back at Steve. "Oh, no, yes, you know what I'm talking about. That skeptical look. Like we're not allowed to have fun in bed?"

Steve had settled on his side; as Tony turned back to face him, dropping the handful he'd grabbed between them, he saw Steve take in a breath and carefully let it out. He could see everything: Steve's body was the most beautifully sculpted chunk of humanity Tony had ever laid eyes on. His chest was flushed too, and his neck, and his cock twitched, already hard, against a firm round thigh.

"It's not that," Steve said at last. "I'm just not used to..." He paused, gathering his thoughts, and Tony waited him out. "When I had the chance before," he went on, "it was always -- well, furtive. Rushed, you know? Usually at night, had to be quiet. That kind of thing. The idea of taking the time and, you know, savoring it, that's something I only dreamed about before."

'Before', in that tone of voice, always meant pre-flash-freezing. Tony didn't care to speculate about whom Steve might have had the opportunity to hook up with then; it simply wasn't relevant. He only nodded and smiled, ducking his head and reaching across the space between them to touch Steve's forearm gently. "We have all the time in the world now," he said. "And I don't know about you, but I am _not_ going to rush this, not when I've been wanting you for mon--"

He cut himself off when he heard the words coming out of his mouth, but Steve's eyebrow went up anyway, and then the slyest grin Tony had ever seen crossed Steve's face. "Oh, _really_ ," Steve said.

"No, not really, just since like Monday, shut up, Rogers," Tony babbled, and was pretty much relieved when Steve slid over to close the gap between them and kissed him.

Getting Steve ready was much easier than Tony had worried it would be. Admittedly, his fantasies hadn't included the realization that hurting Steve would be damn near impossible; neither had he accounted for the fact that Steve would really want it. Like, a lot.

"Give me two, dammit," Steve growled, when Tony was still teasing a single finger into Steve's body. "I can take it, come on."

"I know you can." Tony was perhaps having a little too much fun, but how often did a guy get to debauch Captain America? "I like going slow, I thought I made that pretty clear before."

"So you're a tease, huh?" Steve panted. "That it?"

With a grin, Tony gave a hard push, and two slicked-up fingers slid deep into Steve's body, finding that little ridge of flesh and stroking firmly. Steve's shout bounced off the walls, his hips shoving against the mattress.

"Call _me_ a tease," Tony grumbled.

By the time Steve grabbed at Tony's free hand, practically ordering him to get inside him, Tony had given up any lingering expectations that he'd had. Steve Rogers would be gorgeous in bed, that was the one thing he'd been sure of; Steve fiercely demanding to be fucked, growling in a raspy voice an octave lower than his normal one, that was something Tony had never imagined. He'd barely even thought Steve would swear, and here he was cursing Tony's name--

"Will you fucking _fuck_ me already," Steve gasped, and for good measure pushed over to his back, which had the side effect of dragging Tony's fingers free of his ass.

"Say please," Tony said, but he was already up and over Steve, slicking up his cock with a last palmful of lube and then lining himself up -- Steve lifted his hips, feet braced on the mattress, and then Tony pushed in, and _ohChristsofuckinghottight_ , there were no words, Tony could only shout insensibly as he buried himself in Steve's welcoming body. His one consolation was that Steve's cry of shocked pleasure was equally incomprehensible.

Sunk deep, buried in Steve's body, he let himself rest a moment there -- just wanting to savor the exquisite heat of Steve, the strength of the frame below him -- but no longer; Steve was already keening for more, a leg hitching up, heel trying to find purchase somewhere around Tony's waist. Tony drew in a sharp breath, inhaling sex-smell and sweat and _Steve_ , and drew back to thrust again. This time, he had the added pleasure of seeing Steve's face, watching those pleasure-darkened eyes rolling back, as he drove home again, and then again, finding his way into the natural rhythm.

"Jesus," Steve managed in a strangled voice. One hand was gripping Tony's shoulder, fingers digging into the thick muscle of his deltoid; the other had slid back under the pillow, tensing his broad pectorals in a way that made Tony's mouth go dry all over again.

"Not quite," he said, hoarse and chuckling, "but I'll take it." And while Steve's startled laughter burst from him, Tony began to thrust in earnest.

He'd known from the beginning that it couldn't last. In a way, he didn't want it to. This first time, he wanted it to be about Steve's pleasure, and if he came too soon, his only regret would be if he didn't bring Steve off adequately. But when he shifted his weight to one elbow and skidded his other hand between their sweating bellies to curl his fingers around Steve's impressive erection (fine, Tony had a thing about size, who gave a fuck), Steve jerked against him: this time, his shout was raw and shaking.

"C-close," he panted. 

Tony nodded, found Steve's mouth again for a messy, hard, short kiss. "Fine with me," he muttered against Steve's lips. "So hot, you're fucking gorgeous, I want to see you, want to feel you coming all around me, go on, let yourself go, let me feel it--"

Steve barely needed any encouragement; he was already thrusting up energetically into Tony's fist, and Tony began to feel as if he might just barely survive this experience. He put his forehead down on Steve's shoulder, gasping, free hand fisting the sheets, and ground hard into Steve until the climax rushed over him, swamped him, drowned him. 

He came back to himself to feel Steve's arms closed around him. Steve had rolled them over to their sides, so that Tony slipped free of him; Tony's hand was sticky with Steve's release. He let go of Steve's cock and wiped his hand absently on the edge of the sheet, then dared to lift his head, to meet Steve's eyes.

Steve's dazed expression, Tony thought, neatly mirrored his own. With a smile, he settled an arm around Steve's slender waist. "Doin' all right there?" he asked.

"Better than," Steve rasped, smiling himself and lowering his head to find Tony's mouth with his own. This was what he'd been looking forward to, Tony thought, ever since he'd seen Steve slicing through the water in the pool, and his smile grew as he thought about dragging Steve into the shower with him.

Later, though. Much later.


End file.
